A New Title
by LZClotho
Summary: A Regal Believer fic. Henry's first word gives Regina a title she never thought she would have.


_**summary/prompt:**_ Henry's first word is the title to riches that Regina never thought she'd have.

author's note: This is a Regal Believer one-shot which was hidden in my Google drive. I hope you enjoy the baby!Henry and Mommy!Regina feels.

 **A New Title**

She followed all the advice of the developmental specialists she'd read, devouring magazines on child rearing as fast as they would come into the house. When Henry started babbling sounds and laughing when she changed his diaper she talked to back to him, telling him what she was doing. When she was putting him in his corduroy jumper for the day's play outside, Regina told him the names and colors of all his bits of clothing. When she cooked in the kitchen and he sat nearby pushing finger-foods around on his bouncer's track, she talked about anything and everything that came to her mind. The recipe for that night's dinner. She talked about rain and sunshine, and horses, and dogs - he'd seen Pongo out with Archie several times and the Dalmatian never failed to be the inspiration for endless babbling that would often continue long after the effete man moved on with his lanky canine. She'd explained "black" and "white" and "spots" and "dog" all the while telling Henry how proud "mommy" was of him.

Henry would babble back, laugh, mash his banana chunks into his face, and she'd let herself giggle like she hadn't since she was a teenager, all while she removed the mash from his fingers and hair with the washcloth always kept at the ready by his highchair at the table. She'd tell him how handsome was "mommy's boy" especially with shampoo thick in his hair pulled out by his own hands into odd spikes. He'd laugh, and she'd laugh and Regina finally knew how happiness truly felt in the way his cherubic smiles, gaping teeth, and high-pitched laughter, soothed even the roughest spot of her days.

She started reading to Henry stories of this world, though she avoided the fairytales which featured the town's many mind-numbed residents. She would lovingly read to him from _The Little Engine That Could_ , and _Dinghy Dan_. Then she would take Henry to the seafront to watch the boats bring in their daily catches.

She sang songs from the radio after she realized all the nursery rhymes and lullabies were terrifying and depressing. She finally found a few Iroquois, Hopi, and other First Peoples' tales of kinship with the land and animals. She would retell the tales after reading them herself, while Henry sat next to her in the garden while she knelt to transplant the winter flowers from their indoor pots to the freshly turned soil around the base of her apple tree in the spring.

One morning when Henry was not quite five months old, while she worked on some replantings, he changed position, drawing her attention. He shifted onto his belly, army crawled into the garden bed and pulled up what she had just put in. She'd bitten her tongue to prevent her mother's voice from coming through. After a stifled exhale, she tenderly kissed his head. He smiled up at her, so proud of his "help."

She spoke carefully. "It shouldn't go there, hmm? How about over here?"

She'd pointed; he pointed, copying her, and she'd replanted the mangled gladiola in the new spot: even though it would just barely catch the early morning sun.

He clapped awkwardly. She turned, dusted the dark rich soil from her gloves and smiled down at him. He lifted his hands open toward her. "Maa maa!" His fingers wriggled in the air.

Regina was stunned. "Henry?" Would he say it again? Did he even know what he'd said? Until this moment, she'd never thought any of his babbling was making any sense.

"Mama!" he said again, his fingers wriggling more insistently.

Her brain caught up with the message. "Do you want mommy to pick you up?" she asked, touching his fingers and meeting his eyes.

"Mama!" he insisted again, this time shaking his head up and down.

"All right," she said. His lower lip started to jut out as she pushed to her feet, moving away from him. His deep eyes brimmed with tears and his lower lip started to quiver.

"Mommy is just standing up, Henry," she assured. Once on her feet, she bent back over quickly and snugly grasped his torso under both upraised arms. "Here. See? Now you're up here with me."

"Maa ma!" He seemed so pleased to say that word. "Me!"

"Yes, I am Mommy and you," she said, biting her lip, "You are my beloved little prince, Henry."

He crushed himself against her chest and under her chin, erupting with sound again. "Ma ma. Me. Ma ma me. Ma me." His arms batted around her neck. She pressed her face into his thick brown hair, inhaling his sweet scent and reveling in the momentous development of this child. Her son.

Of all the titles she had been granted in her life's long span, she decided, this was the best one. "Yes, Mommy loves _you_ , Henry." She lifted him in her arms, so she could meet his eyes. "I always will."

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End file.
